discovering bonnie

I don’t consider myself a “foodie,” and I’m not even sure what that really means. But I do enjoy good food paired with good wine and good company. Especially the familiar company of friends and family. Not all of the time, but certainly often enough to stay connected. 

This is not really about food though – it’s about the experience around food that I observed during my recent trip to Europe. It was my first trip, and I’ve heard for years about the higher quality and better tasting food and wine (less processed ingredients and a culture that prioritizes locally sourced ingredients). While you could absolutely taste the difference in quality, it was something else entirely that captured me.

It was the experience of it — time spent gathering over a beautifully prepared meal with people you care about. One of the lasting impressions was watching people gather with intention around a meal. Everyone at the table was engaged with one another, children and adults alike. No kids with devices to entertain them while the adults had conversations. There was no rush to order, to eat, to move on to the next course, to finish. It seemed a daily occurrence, not just reserved for weekends or special occasions. It was refreshing and endearing, the kind of behavior you want to emulate.

While in Spain visiting my son, we met at a highly recommended “local’s spot” for a late lunch. It was a small establishment adorned with Matador costumes encased in plexiglass lining the entrance. At one table, six or so older gentlemen lingered over lunch — talking, laughing, sharing stories. You could tell, it was a local’s spot, and they had been there for hours. My son and I took a spot in a corner, near the street window and shared a pan of fresh Seafood Paella over conversation and catching up. He seemed different – wiser, more mature, confident, and connected to the culture of where he was living. I was impressed, and the Seafood Paella was absolutely amazing. But it wasn’t about the food, it was about sharing and connecting over the meal, with my son. 

In Portofino I watched a seaside, patio restaurant quickly fill with locals (families and couples alike) gathering for lunch, with warm greetings from the owners. People seemed to know each other. I knew this is where I wanted to stop. People seemed laid back and in no rush to get to somewhere else. It made me want to be a part of it, to stay for a while and just enjoy the friendly, relaxed culture. It seemed sacred in a small ordinary way over the best bowl of tomato, basil spaghetti I’ve ever had. 

Somewhere between lingering lunches in Spain and quiet dinners alone in Italy, I realized how much I missed the connection that happens naturally over a shared meal. There was a time when family dinners were one of the ways I cared for the people I loved most. But somewhere along the way, life became busier, more hurried, and those moments slowly became more functional than intentional. I didn’t fully recognize then how meaningful those ordinary gatherings really were. Over time, I began missing them.

Maybe that’s what I recognized sitting at those tables in Europe.